


Trigger for Happiness

by EratoTiaTuatha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Deadpool vol 2, Dealing With Trauma, Gen, Joe Kelly, Kelly's Deadpool, Mental Illness, Other, characters shall be added, old Deadpool canon, some strong language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EratoTiaTuatha/pseuds/EratoTiaTuatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two messed up assassins meet and accidentally help each other out. Expect narration you know from Kelly's Deadpool, a.k.a. a mix of light and serious. Heavy angst is to be expected, but if you're counting for chimichanga jokes I'd go look somewhere else...</p><p>Canon/timeline wise, Bucky is almost immediately post-CA:WS, while Wade is pretty much straight out of Vol2. There have been things going on between Vol2 and now and they will be revealed in due time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Blending In

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an open beta, the text is subject to changes and corrections and comments are very much welcome!!
> 
> At this point I have about 6-8 chapters outlined which should most likely hover somewhere in the 2-4k words range.

The man looked pretty inconspicuous, which wasn't really all that hard given that he was wandering around an area full of all kinds of people. He was wearing an oversized dark green hoodie and a cap hiding his face almost entirely. His hands never left his pockets and he was hunched ever so slightly in an attempt to not look like a threat.

“Well, what do we have here” - Wade was, at last, strolling about in broad daylight wearing a grin on someone else's face. To the hoodied figure's credit, Deadpool wouldn't have picked him out if he hadn't already been aware that he might run into him. “Hiding in plain sight. Wow, classy. It would probably be worth mentioning that this dude's a wanted fugitive. By like, everyone. Literally.”

Wade took a longer route to his target so as not to approach him from behind. He knew better than to start a fight now. He never stopped talking, either:

“What's he looking at? Oh, a Starbucks. I didn't even know they built one here, interesting. I'm going to have to drop by and check it out, not that they're not all the same...”

At this point the man was already staring at him, bewildered. “'The hell are you talking to?” - he barked, carefully keeping his back to the wall. The face that did not belong to Wade grinned.

“You, who else? I mean of course I could be talking to-” - he looked pointedly behind the guy. The immediate area was clear - “that NOBODY ELSE WHO IS ANYWHERE NEARBY. I'm Wade by the way, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand. The man looked at it like it was something rotten and smelly, Deadpool didn't mind though. “Look, this is just common courtesy. A gesture of good will exchanged between human and mutate beings. We grab each other's hands and shake them a little and it signifies we mean each other no harm.”

“How do you know I mean you no harm?” the other guy deadpanned.

“So it's gonna be one of those, right? Oh well. Let's just say that your meaning's gonna be lost in translation with me, man.” Wade was still cheerful as ever, while the other man remained stone cold and emotionless.

“...I think you didn't understand what I just said.” Deadpool smiled in response. It was meant to look light and reassuring, but just didn't come out that way.

“Right back at ya. So, what are you doing around here? What are you up to? Out on a walk? A leisurely stroll?” he noticed the stranger's eyes narrow in something halfway between threat and confusion “This, my dear friend is called small talk. A casual conversation. You do that with strangers for no reason at all. Societal pressure, mostly. People exchange random questions and half-truths for answers and everybody goes home thinking they're a nice person and a damn fine citizen.”

“I'm not your-” he attempted to interject but Wade wouldn't let him.

“I'm giving you free advice, no need to get defensive. Anyway, I'll be on my way now, got time to talk to and people to kill. I figured you could use some tips on how to blend in better. You know, for no reason in particular. Because you're blending in just fine. Not that I think you're trying to blend in, it's not like you're a wanted criminal or anything. So, I'll be going now. Bye!”

By the time the Soldier was able to process what he just heard this “Wade” guy was out of sight. He tried to spot him in the crowd but he wasn't able to. The man had to be a pro. Or a hallucination.

* * *

His intel was right, which meant that he wasn't malfunctioning too badly, yet. He had intercepted a messenger a few days back, standard interrogation procedure, and then... Then he was somewhere else and his clothes were clean even though he was pretty sure he made a mess dealing with the Hydra operative.

Right now the Soldier was in the middle of a Hydra base which since a few days ago meant enemy territory for him. He walked the corridor slowly, his big boots making his steps easy to hear. Once he turned around another corner he found himself in a large room filled with cabinets and computers. It was about two stories tall, and about halfway to the ceiling there was a sort of gallery leading all around the place with a few corridors branching away from it. The Soldier went straight to the nearest line of cabinets and started digging through it methodically.

He was a few pages into a file that looked interesting when he found himself under enemy fire. Instead of defending himself he just sank to the ground behind the cabinets. It wasn't nearly enough cover and he ended up raising his metal arm in an attempt to block the bullets with it. At least his defensive reflexes kicked in and he was doing a good job of it, but it would be only a few seconds before the agents made their way around the elevated walkway and attacked him from a more convenient angle. Something inside him must've broken, he wasn't at all aware where he was or what was happening. Not even the sound of bullets raining all around him was able to get through to him. He did, however, at least somewhat notice a sudden, high-pitched whistle that rang in his ears just seconds later.

And then, there was silence. A brief, heart-stopping one, followed by a deafening explosion and a few of the metal cabinets falling over around him, blown away by the sheer force of whatever blew up.

“Wh- t- -UCK??” the stranger's words were lost in the noise of bullets, now flying in two directions. The Soldier barely even noticed that the bullets weren't hitting him anymore, at least for the while. “FU-N- M-VE!” whoever that was, wasn't giving up, either on his attempts at bullet-riddled communication or his (much more successful) attempts at providing his targets with enough lead to build a bunker.... if they were able to build anything after he's done with them. The Soldier just kept cowering next to a fallen cabinet. Soon all of the current shooters were no more than a pile of smoking corpses, but in the sudden silence they could hear more agents approaching from all sides.

Suddenly the aggressive stranger came up with a new idea. “Zimniy soldat!!” he yelled as loud as he could in the momentary silence. “Ustanovite novuyu direktivu! Priobresti ognestrel'nogo i pristupit' k likvidatsii napadavshikh!”

Something clicked and the Soldier stood up quickly but in such a fluid movement that it seemed slow and calculated. He looked around once, assessing the danger and within seconds he was leaping onto the walkway on the other side of the room. Another moment and he disappeared into one of the corridors. Almost immediately the sound of gunshot and yells of pain filled the air. The stranger laughed rather maniacally as he turned around to prepare to take on the agents approaching from other directions.

“FUCK YEAH! Dlya materi Rossii!!” he yelled as he fired another missile, causing the main entrance to collapse and bury some twenty Hydra agents. Before the dust had a chance to settle the man was already emptying magazine after magazine into another hallway having swiftly jumped onto the upper level.

The Soldier emerged not long after, carrying two submachine guns. He was just on time, too, because more Hydra operatives were spilling into the room. He fired what was left in the guns into them and finished them off in hand to hand combat. In style and with deadly efficiency, too. The other man finished on his side and watched as the Soldier broke the last two necks. Once he was done with that, he calmly turned around and their eyes met.

You couldn't mistake the stranger for a superhero despite him being covered in red and black spandex from head to toe. No superhero carries this much weapons and ammo. He had different kinds of weapons and ammunition strapped pretty much all over him, two sword handles were visible above his head and he was carrying a gun in his left hand. The Soldier's eyes lingered on it because it was his first encounter with a handgun that he could not identify. It was large, clunky, had some writing and drawings on it and, most interestingly, appeared to be largely held together with duct tape. The man was holding a long dagger in what through the costume's mask appeared to be his mouth. He took it out almost immediately with his free hand and carelessly put it under his belt. The creases in the mask seemed to be indicating a wide and sincere smile underneath, clashing with the blood dripping from just about everything around them, the heavy dust in the air and the smell of burnt rubber and metal.

“Feeling a bit better?” The Soldier shivered a little bit at the jarring, unpleasant sound of the man's voice. He blinked twice and continued to stare for a moment before answering.

“Why are you here?” his voice sounded flat and almost robotic, but there was fear and mistrust in his eyes. The stranger chuckled.

“You could thank me, you know. I kinda saved your ass here. You should be glad I came.”

“Did you follow me?” he pressed. “Who are you? Who sent you??”

“Whoa there, slow down kid.” there was something that felt wrong about being called that, but the Soldier wasn't sure what it was. “First of all, I've got better people to follow than malfunctioning assassins. You're not even cute and I promised myself I'm done with stalking. I'm here on a job, genius. Which is done, judging by how little noise our Hydra friends are making.”

“So Hydra are your-”

“Holy shit Drax, can you try actually thinking or does that brain of yours require some subtle Russian encouragement too?” The man shook his head in exasperation and easily jumped down, landing next to the Soldier. The weapons he was carrying rattled loudly. “Now, wanna try and get out of here, or should I pull out a sleeping bag for you?” he teased. The Soldier frowned, deciding to ignore what he was pretty sure were insults since technically he didn't even understand them.

“I need intel” he said stubbornly.

“Intel. What kind of intel. This intel?” the man gestured wildly towards the pile of collapsed cabinets “Or this other, you know, Intel Inside?” this time he pointed to the computers most of which were at least half melted. The Soldier frowned even more.

“I need intel... on location of other Hydra bases...” The red and black guy laughed in response.

“Aw man, you can just google that you know. Come on, I'll get you your intel.” The Soldier was preparing to argue, but before he could say anything the man continued. “Let's leave the premises, Soldier!”

The Soldier followed orders, and right now it felt good to be told what to do instead of having to answer questions. He didn't like questions at all. So he obediently went after the stranger, who led the way through the backstage of the base – first they took one of the hallways they fought in previously, stepping over bodies littering the floor. The corridors they walked through got progressively narrower until they were making their way up through a maintenance ladder in a ventilation shaft. With each step the Soldier felt some of the fog lift from his mind. It felt good, so he just concentrated on the feeling and on getting out of the base. Finally they were out on the surface. It was almost dawn.

"It was nice taking out bad guys with you." the man spoke for the first time in a long while. The Soldier was startled for a second but quickly recovered. It was so much easier to think now that he was outside.

"I suppose the same goes to you." he replied eyeing the guy suspiciously. Now that they were here that voice started seeming familiar.

"Technically, you did half of my job for me today. If you drop by later I'll give you your half of the money." The Soldier nearly choked in shock.

"What?" The man shrugged.

"I'm just being fair. And besides, once you know how much that is I'm pretty sure you'll stop opposing it." he laughed and extended his hand. That's right, the Soldier finally remembered.

"You're the guy from before, right?" Apparently it must've been funny.

"Yeah. Yeah I am. Certainly took you a while." Wade smacked the Soldier's shoulder, still laughing.

“I... Malfunctioned.” he managed and Wade suddenly went serious.

“Fuck that, I can't really leave you alone now can I? Okay then, that your car?” he pointed to the old pickup the Soldier had stolen earlier and got a nod in response. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

They drove back to the city and the whole way there Wade kept talking. “So, what are you gonna do with your half a mil?”

“My- what?” the Soldier may not have been in the loop when it came to economy but he knew enough to be shocked.

“Yeah, yeah, nice gig, huh? I'm back in the game, snatching the sweetest deals on the market. And thanks to you there's been a lot of Hydra-related stuff going on. I just LOVE dealing with international organizations hellbent on taking over the world!”

“You're a mercenary?” Now that he thought about it, the Soldier remembered that he used to deal with a few of those at some point.

“No, I'm a starving comedian with aspirations to play Hamlet.” Wade sounded so serious that the Soldier actually considered that for a moment. “Yeah, you pay, I whack. That's the whole deal.” he shrugged.

“Who paid you for Hydra?” now that he was starting to understand more of what was going on, the Soldier became interested.

“Shhhh! Professional secret. Kinda like confessions, just more blood and guts. So, where are you staying?”

“Here.” The answer was so simple that it took Wade a good moment to process.

“What, the car?” he shook his head disapprovingly “You're gonna need a place to crash, and I'm not letting you see me in my PJs. So, how about a nice house nearby? You can afford it now.”

The Soldier hadn't planned to stay for long, much less settle in, but now he realized he didn't have any plans at all so maybe this one was as good as any? He reluctantly agreed.

“Great! I happen to know a really nice one. Quiet community, not much traffic, neighborhood crappy enough that nobody asks questions, multiple exits... How do you like it?”

“Sounds good but I want to see it-”

“Awesome! It's yours, congratulations!” the Soldier pretty much gave up at this point, figuring out that if he wanted to get away, he always could. Obviously there was no point in trying to reason with the guy. Instead, he decided to ask about something else.

“How did you escape that time?”

“How did I- what?? I never escaped, darling!” Wade was obviously trying to change the subject.

“How did you disappear so fast?” He expected more resistance from Wade's initial deflection but suddenly the man just went and spilled his guts instead.

“Oh, that. It's the teleporter, my favorite toy! Well, second favorite, I've got something even better. But yes, I did teleport.” he patted his belt buckle affectionately “This baby was made by my best buddy, Weasel.”

“Can he repair that?” the Soldier showed Wade his metal arm, which looked like it was about to fall apart into more pieces than Wade could count to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is officially my first fanfiction! I've done a lot of original writing so it's not a first in that department, but I'm not used to doing other people's characters and this is the first longer work that I've done in English, so yeah. Oh and I'm having huge trouble getting used to English formatting (yeah we do things like dialogues very differently here) so corrections are appreciated! Please tell me what you think and give me constructive criticism but also please be gentle ;)


	2. Moaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprising things are learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, NOT beta'd. Be aware that there shall be typos and awful stylistic choices. Will improve as I work on it.

“Can he repair that?” the Soldier's arm was busted pretty bad. It surprised Wade because he didn't notice anything before, but then again, the Winter Soldier could be counted on to ignore all kinds of injury.

“Well, he's no Stark” he shrugged

“Howard?” the Soldier asked on reflex, not really knowing where the name came from. Maybe he heard it somewhere, sometime? The mercenary's eyes went wide for a second.

“Dude, you whacked that guy.” he pointed out. There was a desperate note in his voice as he tried to soften the blow with nothing more than good intentions. 

“I- what?” the Soldier frowned “I... don't remember. I don't even know how I knew that name.” Deadpool scratched his head, making his mask wrinkle awkwardly on one side.

“Um. Jamie, boy. Can I call you Jamie? I'm gonna call you Jamie. You did notice that you weren't exactly... _there_ all the time, right?” The Soldier just stared at him, even more confused.

“J-Jamie?” he repeated, trying hard to figure it out before Wade had a chance to answer.

“Yeah, that's your name right? Jamie, that's short for James. Jaaaaameeeessss, does it ring a bell? Please tell me you at least figured that much out?” somewhere during the last sentence his voice went a good few notes higher. The Soldier half-closed his eyes and nodded slowly. 

“James Buchanan Barnes. 'Bucky'.” he said shakily and took a deep breath before looking at Wade. “That's his... that's _my_ name, right?”

“...Yeah.” Wade nodded, keeping his eyes on Bucky's face. After a short pause he smiled cheerfully, or at least that's what it looked like through the mask. “I figured 'Bucky's too personal, and using full names is a bitch so Jamie is just perfect! Jamie. Kinda like that guy in that...” he shot Bucky a quick glance “...movie you've never seen so I'm not gonna bother explaining or dragging this subject any longer because damn, some things you just gotta see for yourself, you know? And anyway we don't have time for that, with your arm being all dramatic and shit. Speaking of, wanna drop your stuff off at your new house first? With how packed Weasel's crappy apartment is we can't bring too much with us.”

“Okay” Bucky nodded, glad they changed the subject. He didn't exactly understand what had happened or where he stood with this strange man, but things didn't seem 'bad', so he thought he could put up with it for a while more.

“And here we are! Neat, right?” Wade screamed so suddenly Bucky jumped and nearly hit his head on the car's roof. 

He quickly looked around and saw what was probably the most unremarkable house on Earth. Despite his spy/assassin skills the only words that came to his mind to describe it with were 'normal', 'regular' and the like. The walls were a normal color of walls, the windows were placed in all the regular places, the doors were unremarkable and the entire architectural structure was profoundly forgettable.

“It's... a house” he managed. He must've been missing some sort of joke because Wade was beside himself with glee.

“I KNOW, RIGHT?? It's amazing! Come on, I'll show you around!” he hopped out of the car before James could react, but he quickly caught up with the mercenary.

“You said you wanted me to buy it.” he pointed out, like it was enough to explain his concerns. Wade didn't get it.

“Yeah! You'll still have some cash left to get comfy here, don't worry.” he laughed as he jogged up the stairs. The Soldier was frowning again.

“And now it belongs to...?” 

“Oh, that. It's mine, so don't worry about paperwork or anything. Look, there's even a TV already! No cable though and you can't exactly sign a contract, being a fugitive and all... But hey, maybe Weasel can put some sort of receiver into that arm of yours, wouldn't that be cool? Free History Channel! All the Jesus pseudoscience you could ever want!!” He got so invested in skipping around the place excitedly that he didn't even notice that the other man stopped abruptly at the door and was staring at him with what looked a lot like murderous intent.

“It's yours?” James asked coldly. Wade spun around accidentally knocking down a lamp from the shaky coffee table that seemed to remember biblical times.

“Yeah, got it ages ago as a backup but never used it anyway so you can have it. I mean, buy it. Why?” the question that brought the lamp to the floor didn't as much as dent Wade's happy mood.

“You could've mentioned that.” the Soldier pointed out darkly. His eyes were narrow and his look could kill. Wade just shrugged.

“Yup! I didn't though. So, how do you like it? There's not much furniture beside this place. I mean, there's a fridge and nothing more. I need to advise you though, it's not working. But hey, I bet with a few good kicks it'll rethink its life choices, and peeing in a bucket's never killed anybody.”

“What does peeing have to do with any of that?” James' aggression was suddenly replaced by the most baffled expression Wade had ever seen.

“Just that when I say 'no other furniture', I mean 'no other furniture'. And that statement fully covers the amount of toilets available. There is a hole where the old one was, though, so I'm pretty sure you can go ahead and use that if you have a problem with buckets.” another careless shrug. Was everything a game to this guy? “Do I get an answer out of you or should I insert a coin somewhere first??” he demanded.

“Okay, whatever” James was quite certain that it was his worst decision to date, even if he didn't remember the others. Wade somehow appeared next to him and gave him a strong pat on the right arm.

“Great! We can figure out the details later, Weasel first!” he opened his arms and grinned “Do I get a hug?”

James took a big step back “Why?” once again his face indicated all too clearly how much he did not want physical contact with his crazy companion.

“Because all of this has made me awfully emotional and I think I'm going to cry any minute now.” Wade nearly fell over laughing after seeing James' puzzled expression “Geez man, get a sense of humor installed while you're at it. My teleporter. It won't carry us both unless we hold on to each other pretty damn close. Awkward, I know.”

The only thing the Soldier knew at that point was that he didn't know or understand anything at all, and had absolutely no idea which of Wade's words to trust and which not. He reluctantly stepped closer and allowed the merc to embrace him, even went as far as to awkwardly put his hands on his back in return. Then he felt one of Wade's hands slip between them and slowly creep down... He pulled away rapidly, just to get a very skeptical look from Deadpool.

“Don't flatter yourself, kid. I was reaching for the 'on' button. It's on my belt and I've shown you that already. Now, do you want your arm fixed or not??”

The feeling was quite unlike anything he could remember. Something told James that was shame. He gave Wade a hug that was as impersonal and distanced as possible, while honestly wishing he could teleport on his own, as far as possible.

This time he didn't react as the other man pressed a button hidden in his belt buckle. Immediately everything went fuzzy and he felt like he was being dragged off in all directions at once. And then it was over as suddenly as it started. He belatedly realized that Wade had already let go and was waiting for him to do the same. He quickly stepped away, clearing his throat. He didn't like this 'teleportation' one bit. Only now did he realize they were inside a dark and tiny apartment, more precisely in front of what appeared to be the entrance to it, in a narrow corridor that was filled with cabinets and closets and piles of  _ stuff. _

“Weasel, buddy?” Wade started. He was about to call again, louder this time, when they heard it.

Moaning.

Female moaning, to be precise.

The Soldier tilted his head and shrugged, looking at Wade. Hadn't he thought to make sure his friend would be  _ available  _ before he decided to visit? However, Wade looked positively shocked. He started sneaking in the direction the noises were coming from. James tried to stop him, had the man gone mad? Although now that he thought about it, that question answered itself the moment he met him, so maybe this was to be expected... 

Wade stopped for a moment right next to the closed door, then suddenly kicked it open, tearing it off the hinges in the process, and barged in. Then he burst out laughing.

“Why didn't you tell me, man? I would've joined!” After hearing that, James was certain he didn't want to see whatever was happening inside, but he reluctantly followed into the room anyway.

A scruffy looking nerd was sitting in an old pale green armchair that barely fit between the rest of the clutter filling the room. A huge TV in front of him was displaying a computer animated movie, in which some girl was kicking the shit out of some big guy in leather, all in the middle of what looked like a cathedral. The noises she made didn't register as anything battle-related in the Soldier's head, no matter how hard he tried to remember ever hearing anything similar while fighting.

“You've seen it like fifteen times now, Wade” complained the nerd.

“But it's my favorite part!” replied the other, unceremoniously sitting half on the armrest, half in Weasel's lap. The scrawny guy groaned disapprovingly. James decided to stay out of it for now.

“You're fucking heavy man, ow ow OW I never asked for a grenade in my face what if it goes off just GET OFF ME! ...please? Wade?”

But the mercenary appeared glued to the screen. Finally the big guy got buried under a pile of rubble. The girl posed triumphantly, some silly music started playing, and then Wade  _ squealed with excitement. _

“I fucking love Loz!” he exclaimed as the big guy climbed to his feet and answered his phone. Behind the armchair, the Soldier shifted uncomfortably. It must've reminded Wade that he was there because the man turned around, and then back to his friend. “Oh Weasel, I totally forgot. This is Jamie. Jamie's been a naughty kid and he got his arm busted, can you take a look at it?” Deadpool was even nice enough to transfer his weight entirely to the armrest so that Weasel could move freely.

“Wade you know very well that I'm not a docto-” he started as he got up, but then he saw James' arm. “...Oh. It's that kind of arm.” he briefly judged the extent of the damage “Yeah, sure, just be advised that I'm no Stark.”

“I killed him” James stated out of the blue, without a trace of any emotion. Weasel stumbled back a bit.

“Holy shit the Iron Man??” he yelled.

“Nah man, the previous one.” Wade cleared up the confusion.

“Oh thank god!” the nerd exclaimed and the Soldier had no idea how to interpret that reaction. Thankfully he didn't have to think of a reply because Weasel continued talking. “No problem dude, just pop it off and leave me to-”

In a sudden blur of movement that even the Soldier's enhanced senses had trouble picking up Deadpool threw his weight on Weasel, knocking the armchair down in the process so that they both landed on it as it fell. One of his katanas was pressed to his friend's throat firmly enough to draw blood and make the man struggle to breathe. There was madness in his eyes and the suddenly furious lines of his face, strikingly visible despite the mask. Weasel's eyes, on the other hand, showed unrestrained  _ panic, _ informing the Soldier that there must've been a great deal of fear of Deadpool underneath the nerd's friendly demeanor all along.

“It's _his_ hand and it's _not_ leaving him even for a fucking second.” he hissed hatefully. James realized that Wade's hands were shivering just a bit, and it took him a moment to process that it was from how hard he was fighting to stop himself from pushing on the blade harder. “ _Understood?_ ”

The scrawny man faintly nodded in response. Wade got up immediately, somehow perfectly calm and in control at once. “I'm sorry Wade, I'm not gonna... I didn't know...” came the frantic apologies. Wade ignored them completely.

“Okay then, let's get our asses to your workshop dude, I wanna be done with this before dinner.” he declared and left the room, passing James on the way. Weasel staggered after him, and the Soldier had no choice but to follow.

They entered an even more cluttered, but at least significantly bigger room and approached a fairly clean work bench. Weasel moved an additional chair close to it and pointed James towards it. The assassin sat down obediently and put his arm on the bench for the nerd to work on. Suddenly he realized all at once what had happened just moments before and something in his stomach turned unpleasantly. However shocked he was, he was even happier that Wade dealt with the situation for him.

Meanwhile, Weasel was already examining the arm, gently poking it with tiny screwdrivers to find the best way to take it apart without causing more damage. Wade, on the other hand, was doing something under a table.

“You boys don't mind me, I'm just digging through Weasel's porn stash!” he exclaimed after a few moments and James chuckled. It felt weird and alien, but somehow it just happened and he couldn't stop it. Before he could start over-analyzing it Weasel started actually opening the arm's panels and the Soldier focused on the familiar, calming sensation instead.

Some time later Wade emerged with a small pile of magazines and sat on something that looked like a cross between a radiator and a bathtub with a lot of tubes and wires attached. There seemed to be a lot of things like that in Weasel's apartment. The mercenary started casually going through the magazines, showing James pictures of more or less naked women every now and then and asking for his opinion. James' answer was, consistently, something along the lines of “ughhrm...”

When he wasn't being asked to form opinions on the female form, the Soldier observed the man poking around inside his arm. Weasel would shoot him unpleasant glances whenever he thought James wasn't looking. He didn't mind being looked at like that, in fact he was quite used to it. Then, though, came the realization that the emotion in the scrawny man's eyes wasn't hate or disgust. It was fear, and a lot of it.

It took a few hours but finally James' arm was fully operational. “Aw yisss!” replied Wade after he was told that. “Just in time for dinner!” The Soldier looked at him suspiciously; he wasn't expecting to leave that soon, at least not before paying for the repairs in some way.

“Are we leaving?” he asked, tilting his head.

“What?” Wade seemed almost offended at the suggestion “Hell no! There's this pizza place nearby that's fucking delightful.”

James was about to ask if they were going to eat in a public place when the mercenary pulled out a phone and started placing his order into it. That was new to the Soldier, but it was also far from the strangest thing to happen in the last few days so he just rolled with it.

A few minutes later they were back in the room with the TV, watching what Wade called '70s sitcoms, eating pizza and drinking beer. James was mostly delighted to not be the center of attention at last. It felt good after being worked on like a machine for hours.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it continues. I had much more fun writing this one than the previous, apparently I'm finally getting the hang of the characters and the style I'm aiming for. Again, please please comment and point out any and all mistakes you notice! <3 <3 <3 thanks for reading ;)


	3. The Deadhut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys leave Weasel's and arrive at the Deadhut. Then things happen ;)

The '70s sitcoms' were a blur of noise and colors to James. He found it soothing in a way to have something all the currently unused parts of his brain could focus on instead of bothering him, though. He had been mildly shocked to see that Wade not only didn't intend to pay, or let him pay for the repairs, but actually shamelessly went for Weasel's wallet when it was time to pay for the pizza. It wasn't like the wallet was out in the open or even in some obvious place, either. The mercenary had to dig through a few piles of stuff to get it, which James observed while quietly frowning. He discreetly looked at Weasel a few times to see his reaction and was again surprised to see a mix of resignation and fear.

Once the pizza was in the room with them (having been brought by Wade who tipped the delivery guy generously) they all sat around the tiny table to eat. Deadpool had claimed the armchair for himself, obviously. The Soldier was about to sit on the floor when Weaz pushed a chair he apparently dug up from under the mess his way. Deeply unsure about the situation, James sat down.

“Weaz, get off of the screen buddy!” Wade grunted disapprovingly and Weasel quickly sat down on some roughly box-shaped device that had been laying around. By now the Soldier was already paying close attention to the dynamic between the two, trying his best to figure it out. They called each other friends, but clearly one was afraid of the other. He wasn't sure why, but he was pretty sure that was not what these things were supposed to look like.

Wade opened the box and took out some pizza. Literally _some,_ because he didn't bother with the lines that were neatly cut into it, just tore out a piece. Then, for some reason he hesitated, shooting a quick and unsure glance at James. Now he seemed afraid, and the whole situation was making less and less sense to the Soldier.

“What?” James asked on reflex. The mercenary flinched. Then he grinned and looked straight in his eyes with confidence.

“What are you staring at, man? Grab a slice.” he deflected. Then he pulled his mask up a little and started eating, expertly covering what was visible of his face from James' sight with his arm and the pizza itself. The Soldier could see the basic logic here, but wasn't entirely sure how he'd be supposed to recognize the mercenary just by his chin. He looked over at Weasel, but the man was busy eating his slice.

In the absence of better ideas he started eating, too. Only now did he realize how hungry he'd been and for a moment he actually felt dizzy from it. Very soon, however, the warm food and drink (beer unceremoniously taken from Weasel's fridge) along with the background noise of the TV put him in an unfamiliar, but pleasant state. His whole body felt heavy, but in a warm and nice way. His senses felt dimmed, but for probably the first time it didn't cause panic but relaxation. There wasn't much space left in his head for actual thoughts, so he focused on the moment instead.

He barely even noticed the fact that Wade seemed to be talking all the time, quietly muttering maybe to himself, the television, Weasel or nobody in particular.

“Okay, time to rise and shine. How about that, Jamie?” The spandex-wearing man was suddenly facing him and talking directly to him. It startled the Soldier out of the brief comfort and he nodded. All trace of the peace was gone and he was back to his normal self instantly. The man had his mask back all the way on, he noticed briefly. “Good, let's go then.”

They both got up and headed to the door. Wade threw a careless 'goodbye' Weasel's way while James just stared, unsure of how to approach the fearful man. For a moment it looked like they were going out through the front door, but then Deadpool turned around so suddenly that the Soldier pretty much walked into him.

The world spun violently for a brief moment once again, and they were... somewhere else definitely, but where exactly, James had no idea. Wade didn't let him wonder for long, though.

“Welcome to the Deadhut! The secret base of operations of no other than the merciless Deadpool! Ooooh spooky!" Wade wiggled his fingers in front of him. James was decidedly unimpressed and looked around instead. Dingy, messy apartment- no, house; It looked a lot like it had been cozy once, but that was years before. The furniture was falling apart, held here and there by nails, scraps of wood and... duct tape? They were in a spacious living room that was open to the hall and staircase. The routes that Wade must've been taking most often were relatively clean, while the rest of the place was littered quite indiscriminately with various empty takeout boxes and beer cans. The TV screen was smashed right across the middle. "I know, rather anticlimactic, right?" Wade asked as he made his way to a doorway that seemed to lead to a kitchen. "You were expecting some dark and menacing supervillain lair, didn't you?"

James just shook his head as he continued to cautiously familiarize himself with the surroundings. He was about to peek around the corner and into the hall when he suddenly heard Deadpool's voice behind him again. "Hey kid, we don't go there" he said and there was an edge to his voice that made James tense up and instinctively ready himself for attack. However, when he turned back to face Wade, having decided against pissing him off just yet, he was met with the same easygoing demeanor that had been there two minutes before. Confusing. "Come on here, we've got some things to discuss." he led the way to the couch in front of the hollow corpse of the TV and they both sat down.

"What do you want from me?" James asked cutting right to the chase. Wade tilted his head in response.

"Wow, talk about ungrateful. I want to arrange some shit, like, you know, give you money and advice and an illusion of family and warmth and sunshine and rainbows." he replied sounding genuinely hurt.

"Arrange it then" James sighed. Wade stared at him for a moment, then seemed to decide to let it go, at least for now.

"...Good. I will." he shifted, sitting down more comfortably, then yelped and jerked up a bit. James was just about to ask when the weirdo reached under his butt and pulled out a small spool of barbed wire which he proceeded to toss carelessly behind him. James didn't even want to know, he decided as he winced at the sound of the spool hitting the wall behind them. Deadpool was apparently back to business already. "Okay, I'll be getting the rest of the money within the next 24 hours, or rather 20 since it's been a little while... Anyway, that's how long we've got to set you up a bit. Weasel's going to get you an account in some remote little country by then, so no worries about that. You got papers?"

This, the Soldier could deal with. Straightforward and simple. He nodded. "Used HYDRA tech, they're secure" For whatever reason the other man stared right into his eyes for a good while before nodding as well.

"Good." he replied, but James was already feeling uncomfortable again. "I'll hook you up with some contacts so you can get settled into the house"

"I don't need help" the Soldier snapped. Deadpool laughed like he heard a good joke, making him tense up even more. "What??" he demanded.

"You know what, let's not go there just now"

"Why? Where?" for whatever reason now James felt hurt. It felt new and alien, and definitely not pleasant, so he covered it up with anger he didn't really feel. Wade fell silent and got up again, heading for the kitchen once more. It took James a few seconds to see the mobile phone left where the mercenary was sitting just now. He reached for it slowly, finding it turned off.

"You can use this one for a while, I wouldn't say untraceable but it's pretty neat at scrambling attempts to locate you, so feel free to call those lines they advertise past midnight" Again, Wade surprised James by coming back into the room. This was getting old, while somehow still being irritatingly new and alien. Those two adjectives were becoming something of a theme. People weren't supposed sneak up on the Soldier.

"Why give it to me?" he asked more on reflex than from actually wanting to pursue this subject at the moment. "Why give me anything?" He was definitely not prepared for the heavy sigh and the way Wade fell more than sat back down, like there was an enormous, invisible weight crushing him. Why wouldn't this man make sense for once?

"I don't know, honestly. I gave up on the whole act, I really did. Or maybe that's just another coconut and it's time for the next episode." James didn't understand a word of that but somehow it seemed too serious to question. Wade opened a bottle that looked old as much as it looked questionable and took a swig, then winked at James. "Want some?"

"What's that?" he asked suspiciously

"Something to help you not think about shit you'd rather not be dwelling on" Alcohol, then. James started shaking his head with the vague feeling it wouldn't do much for him.

"He can't get drunk" he said, and then immediately froze as he realized he'd said 'he'. Before he could grasp the fleeting memory though, cold panic seized him and he started hyperventilating.

"Shit." he heard the mercenary curse beside him like from behind thick fog. Everything was spinning and closing up on him and he couldn't catch his breath, he couldn't- "Focus!" someone yelled right in his face and he stilled immediately, sudden clarity hitting him more painfully than the panic had. He still felt dizzy and not entirely there, but the fog was gone and his breath, while heavy, was steady now. "You good?" the voice asked and he nodded. As he did so, he realized he was staring into the empty looking eyes of that red and black mask as it, along with the face it kept hidden, hovered mere inches in front of him. "...Okay." There was no questioning in the voice or the way Wade immediately backed off and sat back on the other end of the couch. "Good thing I paid attention during Russian" he joked lightly.

James frowned, wondering what he meant by that for a moment. Then, slowly, came the realization that that's what the word that snapped him out was. Russian. He hadn't even realized.He  He felt like he should say something, make some noise at least, but his throat was dry and he couldn't. For once it was a good thing that his new acquaintance didn't seem to know how to shut up.

"I know what you mean though, about the booze, and I assure you I hold the solution to this problem, literally" he shook the bottle meaningfully "Depending on how you count it I guess, but I've lived way longer than you with that pesky healing factor and have it all figured out. So?" this time the bottle ended up right under James' nose.

"You have a healing-" he paused as the bottle got shoved at his face even more insistently.

"Yeah, yeah, long story. Also not related to yours or anyone you'd been close to, but I figure there's only so many ways a healing factor can work, right? Takes care of wounds, takes care of toxins, renders booze useless." James took the bottle reluctantly and immediately put it down after feeling the smell. Whatever it was, that shit was nasty. "BUT, here's the fun part. If you manage to get drunk, you only need to keep drinking to stay that way!" Wade sounded perversely proud of himself now "And then once you stop you're good to go within ten minutes. Isn't that amazing? My favorite thing about the healing factor, really. Goodbye, hangovers!" James was pretty sure it was the first time he even heard of a 'hangover', but something inside him hated the word and what it represented anyway. He wondered briefly what it was like, then tried a sip of the bottle's contents. He nearly choked on them.

"What is this?"

"That's the initial step. Don't worry, it gets more pleasant afterwards. Just get half that bottle in you and we can switch to normal booze." he assured.

James would've been cautious, he really would, but after the events of the day and the very near brush with a panic attack just minutes before, he desperately needed to retreat from the world and his own mind. That, and he didn't really care what happened to him anymore. Everything was too messed up, to illogical, too difficult to care. He downed the required amount of the disgusting liquid quickly and handed the bottle back so that Deadpool could do the same.

Wade proceeded to dig up more bottles, this time ones with actual labels and much easier to drink. Sure enough, James soon started feeling... way different. Definitely below baseline parameters. Mission standard. Not operational. Pleasantly numb, though. Numb and far away from himself. He kept drinking and found himself engaging in conversation more and more. It was a lot like it was happening on its own, somehow beside him. Wade laughed and said he was much more fun drunk, and James supposed that was true. There was something in his voice, even he could tell it. The sounds rolled a slightly different way not different enough to be a distinct accent but also much more comfortable with the English, like it no longer was a language he mastered with the purpose of using it during missions. At the same time, the world tilted and swam around him and so did his perception, so maybe he had no idea what was what after all.

"Got a bathroom here?" he demanded at some point, hell knows how many hours later.

"What, you gonna puke, kid? Can't keep your booze in?" Wade giggled and James punched him in the arm, forgetting completely that his left arm was decidedly stronger than the right. Weird, usually he knew exactly how much force he was putting into moving it. Deadpool didn't seem to care though, even as the punch threw him off balance.

"Shut up" James slurred "Or I'll pee on your fucking couch" Wade nodded seriously, like he just heard some big news. Then he started explaining.

"You go out of here and you go down there and take a left and door and..." he waved his arms around trying to express the route to the bathroom in some sort of interpretive dance. Hand-dance. Then he gave up and just pointed out at the hall. "There. You'll find it. Now go, my young padawan!"

James snorted and shakily stood up. He may have walked straight into a wall at first, but in his defense he found the doorway only on second try. He followed the corridor and immediately his gaze was drawn to a ladder leading up to a doorway that was bolted shut. Well, that was quite interesting. 'We don't go there', he remembered Wade say. This room must've been what he meant then, whatever was inside. James supposed a weapon stash, or maybe even money. He didn't care much for either, so he went on his merry way. He found the bathroom, managed to pee into the toilet instead of the sink, and turned back. For whatever reason, the strange doorway pulled at him like a magnet. He forced himself to ignore it again.

"I hope you haven't finished without me" he said as he entered the room again. Wade just snorted, without looking up at him.

"Your fly's down"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at it! WhooO! Or not, however you feel about this xD Anyway, if you've got anything to say, please comment! <3


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